


Hold My Hands, Promise Not To Fall

by krissmnasi



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: ( sort of? ), Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, Fluff, Ice Skating, M/M, Merlin (Kingsman) Lives, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24041353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krissmnasi/pseuds/krissmnasi
Summary: Harry teaches Hamish how to ice skate after his physical therapy.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Hold My Hands, Promise Not To Fall

**Author's Note:**

> So what if Hamish lived and had really cool new legs that were as close as possible to Real Legs. Oh and also they're married and so soft in love.

While it assuredly wasn’t anywhere near winter, Harry and Hamish had found it difficult to have time to themselves, and thus proposed an outing together. Public displays of their affection were not common, as Harry had simply found it difficult to express it when he’s constantly attempting to be formal in the face of every person he meets, but he makes an exception this time. His gloved hands hold Hamish’s, steadying him, attempting to regain balance. They’re not even on the ice yet and he’s wobbling like a newly-born calf.

It’s understandable; if anyone should be having a hard time walking, it should be Hamish, who’s only starting to get the hang of his new legs. He knew how to use them, and has been for the last three years, but he’s never gone ice skating- with his original legs or his new ones, he’s simply never stepped foot onto the ice. And Harry  _ insisted  _ he try, at least this once, just to help with better controlling his legs.

“Just focus,” Harry says, who’s finding no problems with balancing on the blades, stepping backwards towards the door of the rink. There’s a handful of people there- families, couples, and other sorts of people- but it’s not so terribly crowded. It is cold, though, and Hamish can sense it, even from where he’s standing.

“Aye, what do ye think I’m doing,” he snarls with mirth, smiling downwards, looking at his feet and attempting to take one step in front of the other. He still wobbles, and there’s a moment he thinks he’s going to topple over and tumble, but Harry is there for every step. Until he reaches the entrance and lets go of Hamish to step inside. He’s not even holding on to the railing at the edge; he’s simply balancing on the ice.

It was both breathtaking and terrifying.

“Just balance. I’ll be here to hold you.” With one movement, then the next, Hamish gripped tight to the railing that trailed along the plastic wall of the ice rink. People avoided the entrance entirely as they skated past Harry, who leaned slightly forward for Hamish’s own gloved hands. The skates were entirely plastic, save for the metal blades on the bottom, and it felt uncomfortable on Hamish’s feet that gripped with something more akin to a zip tie. Not to mention, it’s an ugly contrast of blue and grey. Not even the good kind.

Harry, however, brought his own pair. They had shoelaces, seemed comfortable and even  _ warm  _ to wear, with well-managed metal blades, and in a lovely black that was accented with white. And Harry was  _ balancing  _ on them. The way his weight shifted from one foot to the other, how he leaned. He wasn’t a professional by any means, likely didn’t learn from a teacher, but he sure had the experience, with the skates and his movements as proof. 

Hamish holds his breath; he sets one wobbly foot onto the ice. It’s almost embarrassing how long it’s taking him to finally get the other foot there but, when he does, his death grip from the metal railing on the plastic wall quickly makes a move to attach themselves to Harry. It almost throws Harry down with him, who holds him up properly and slowly skates backwards to clear from the entrance in the case that someone had been waiting. There’s a sparkle in the scotsman’s eyes, then the twinkle of a smile at his lips as his knees start to shake and Harry continues to make their way to an unoccupied part of the rink. He makes a move to have Hamish hold onto the railing again.

“It’s all about the weight distribution,” Harry starts, skating forwards and picking up speed as Hamish watches. He focuses on his feet. When Harry turns left, his weight is on his right leg as he leans. When he turns right, his weight is on his left leg. Simple enough to remember, he just needs the muscle memory. When Harry returns after a brief example, he reaches out a hand. “Come.”

“How do I go forward?” Hamish grips Harry’s one hand with both of his own, clutching tightly and unable to control his balance with his focus so thrown off. Harry laughs, something soft and sweet, something Hamish can’t get enough of. He’s so patient with him.

“Just slide one foot in front of the other. Lean forward. There you go, dear, you’ve got it.” And he wasn’t just saying it to say it either; Hamish was learning it quickly for a man on the ice for the first time, as unbalanced as he seems, propelling himself forward as Harry makes sure he doesn’t fall. “You’re much better at this than I was when I was first learning.”

Hamish hums in response, looking towards his feet, one foot then the other. It’s hard to fight the urge to take his foot off the ground in favor of  _ walking  _ but he’s not good at anything if not good at self restraint. But then Harry starts to slowly let go, inching farther from Hamish, leaving him on his own. Suddenly, he looks upwards, not noticing he had been hunched over as he was doing this, eyes wide and legs frozen in fear. Harry crossed his arms, looking at Hamish in deep thought, gazing up then down. He skates a circle around Hamish, who makes the effort to attempt to turn, but he doesn’t move his body. Simply cranes his neck.

“Go on,” Harry says, stopping beside Hamish, who flails slightly to grab hold but the agent recoils to avoid it as Hamish attempts to balance himself. He looks like a fool, with his arms outstretched. “Try, at least, darling.”

“Alright, alright. Promise you’ll catch me if I fall?”

“With all I can. Now go.” Everything in his being holds him back from pushing Hamish forwards.

He lifts one foot upwards- already inwardly cringing at the  _ one  _ thing he wasn’t supposed to do- before his right foot slides forwards. And he feels great pride, until his foot slides at an angle, and then Hamish suddenly finds himself twirling, unable to force himself to straighten and go into a singular direction. The force of it causes him to tumble and he’s about to hit the ice before Harry swoops in and holds him up again, forcing him to still.

Harry trails his hands from Hamish’s back along his arms, then holds onto his hands again. His movement is elegant, and while Harry is  _ yet  _ to be a complete professional, Hamish could easily mistaken him for one. Especially at his age; he’s fit as a fiddle, skating on ice with practiced ease, and Hamish can spot a young learner twirl. She jumps, spinning, and lands with just the slightest bit of a slip of panic before she skates off. Harry can tell Hamish is surprised and he looks over his shoulder to see the girl; she’s too focused to notice but, from what Harry can gather, she looks like she’s no older than thirteen.

“Fuck, Harry,” Hamish smiles, a puff of a cold white cloud from his mouth.

“They start young. Something about getting used to gravity and whatnot.” Harry extends his arms and skates farther from Hamish, who scrambles to grab him closer only to no avail. But their hands are still held together, a bit awkwardly, with Hamish leaning and crouching forwards and Harry with his back up straight.

“How are you so good at ice skating then? Wait- Harry, stop- no, don’t-” Now, Harry is slipping his fingers away from the grip and Hamish makes the attempt to follow closer, lifting his skates up and trying to make a step forwards like he’d forgotten how to walk entirely. But he makes the effort to  _ slide  _ and he can feel himself move forwards, then teeters back. He tries again and it’s a lot better; Hamish is moving in a wobbly line and Harry is following closely, holding his hands, and he retracts further. But Hamish feels alright about that.

That is, of course, until Harry starts to  _ turn  _ with Hamish still in his hands and he feels like he’s a wheel on the bottom of a suitcase, the warning signs of being spun around present and an ever-looming threat.

“Harry- no, don’t spin me-  _ Harry _ !” But Harry is known for his spontaneity and his rebellion, continuing to turn and therefore spinning Hamish in place. Not to teach him anything, but rather for the fun of watching him fumble, and Harry lets go as he skates onwards, leaving Hamish to flail his arms to balance and attempt to skate on his own.

“Sharp as a tack behind the desk but nothing when you have to work on your feet,” Harry says, effortlessly skating by Hamish every now and then, keeping up momentum. He snickers as he makes another turn around the scotsman. “Like a baby giraffe. All limbs.”

In an attempt at chasing after him, Hamish manages to skate, albeit in a wobbling line yet again. But he’s making steady progress, and Harry waits for him at a distance, pushing up the faux glasses on the bridge of his nose. He had no other reasons to wear them than the fact that he needed to keep up a cover and the familiar feel of it was a comfort to him. Even with the HUD displayed in the top right corner, he felt at peace with them on.

Hamish manages to skate himself into Harry’s arms, his own outstretched, but he’s not quite sure how to stick the landing and he topples down, bringing Harry with him. Harry slips, falling backwards with Hamish in his arms, and his back hits the ice with a  _ thud _ . Hamish is lucky enough to land on his side, his glasses going askew, obscuring his vision. For a moment, they look at each other, cheeks flushed and grins dopey. Then Harry reaches to press a kiss on his nose. 

Then, Hamish can feel the disconnect between his stump and the artificial knee, looking down to see that both legs have been unlatched but haven’t fallen out of his pants just yet. It looks like he’d broken his legs, but Hamish simply wiggles his hips and moves himself into place to connect them with a magnetic  _ click  _ again. He needs to work on making them stick in a situation such as this. Nobody pays any mind to it.

Except for a little girl- in fact,  _ the  _ little girl that had been practicing earlier- who decides to skate by when she’s taking a break from practice. She crouches and extends her hands to Hamish, who smiles but doesn’t accept it, leaving her to watch. “Are you okay, misters?”

Harry manages to get up first, having shoved Hamish off of him, then reaches down to pick him up as well and rebalances him on the ice. Hamish holds on to Harry for dear life, arms linked together, and Harry merely pats his arm.

“We’ll be fine, madame, but thank you for the concern. I’m teaching my husband how to ice skate.”

She gets called over by her parents- likely time for her to go home- and the couple waves her off as she expertly makes her way towards the exit. When she’s out of earshot, Hamish turns to look at Harry, eyes wide. “She could probably skate circles around me.”

“She could skate circles around the  _ both  _ of us, Hamish, she’s likely more skilled at her age now than I ever will be in my life.”

Hamish hums in agreement, staring back down at his feet, and he takes the initiative to let go of Harry and  _ leans _ . His arms flail for a second before Hamish gains the confidence to skate forward, Harry following close by, and he doesn’t make the mistake of turning his foot. No, Hamish manages to  _ skate _ . And though it’s only for a little bit- he clutches tight to the metal railing as soon as he reaches it at arm’s length- it makes Harry  _ proud _ .

“I did it-”

“You did it!”

It takes a few more tries for Hamish to completely grasp it and, though he doesn’t manage to skate for more than a minute or two without falling on his arse, gripping the rail, or gripping onto Harry, he’s still managed to accomplish such a great deal. By the time they’re off the ice, Hamish is wobbling again, getting used to both artificial feet on the ground and not slipping.

But Harry is there, arms outstretched, and he’s there to catch him if he falls, or if he trips, and he promises- with all his heart- he’s never letting Hamish go.


End file.
